


Better to Expect Than to Hope

by SpyderScully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpyderScully/pseuds/SpyderScully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder wants Scully to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better to Expect Than to Hope

He opened his eyes to darkness, and the first thought in his head was to question himself about why he was awake. His heart wasn’t pounding, he hadn’t shouted himself into alertness, there were no sounds of a late-night intruder in his apartment…what had woken him up?

Mulder groaned softly as he regretted losing the rare, deep sleep he had found himself suddenly yanked out of. He didn’t know if he was going to get it back now. He absently wondered if he was hungry, and began to make motions to toss the covers aside and get up, when he realized there was a warm body beside him in the bed. Scully’s body.

She was sound asleep beside him, lying on her front with her naked arm draped over his stomach, her hand curled on the side of his ribs. There was no tension in her face, just the gentle halo of sleep that softened her features and gave her slightly parted lips a decided and endearing pucker.

His immediate urge to smile contentedly was averted by bewilderment and disappointment. Bewilderment because he didn’t know why she was still here, and disappointment because she hadn’t left and now he’d be awake to see her go.

Despite the wonderful new-found closeness and intimacy in their relationship, Scully had yet to stay the entire night with him. He had yet to wake up to the feel of her skin pressed against his as the early sun rays bled through the blinds into his bedroom. He had yet to see how she’d react when he woke her with a kiss to the back of her neck. He had yet to see how her face would look as he made love to her in the dappled glow of dawn.

It was always the same; he’d wake up around two or three in the morning from a deep, dreamless sleep to hear the soft sounds of Scully getting dressed in his bathroom, pulling herself together before she quietly closed the door behind her. Even in the precious few times he had spent the night at her own apartment, she had always managed to find some way to not be there when he woke up. She’d be making coffee, she’d be in the shower, she’d be wrapped in her robe, absently strolling around her sitting room…

At first he’d thought she was just wanting to get a head start on the work day—that was her way, it was a compulsory need in her to be prepared, prepped, and punctual for the day. But when they had spent a handful of Saturday nights together and he still woke up without her beside him, he knew it was more than punctuality driving her away from shared mornings.

She was still wary of letting him completely in.

God knew he still had hang ups about their relationship that he was trying to work through, but he knew with certainty that he loved her, and that his feelings and needs were reciprocated in kind. However, a small part of him, the part still tender and sensitive to any slight of self esteem, still needed reassurance that she willingly and wholeheartedly wanted to be with him. Somehow, her waking up in his arms and in his bed in the glow of a new day represented that reassurance.

Mulder hadn’t expected things to really change from that after Scully had opened up about her history with Dr. Watterson, so when he woke up to hear her scuffling around in his bathroom in the early hours that same night, he hadn’t been surprised. It didn’t make it easier, and it didn’t stop his barely controlled desire to get up and ask her to stay, but at least it was expected. Better to expect and be surprised than to hope and be disappointed.

But now it was three in the morning, the usual time she would leave his place (yes, he had been awake every time she’d gone and had kept track), and she was still pressed against him, her arm sleep-warmed and heavy over his stomach. She was still here.

He could feel his body coiling beneath hers as his brain rapidly flitted through every excuse it could think of as to the reason she wasn’t gone. Every excuse he came up with related to her not knowing she was still there. Of course she didn’t know, she’d be gone if she did. She must still be asleep, unaware that she was supposed to have gotten up, quietly slipped her clothes back on, and gently shut the door behind her ages ago.

He tried to let go but all he could concentrate on was how good she felt lying beside him. He indulged himself and softly ran his hand over the back of her head, letting his fingers slide through her silky, bed tossed hair until his palm drifted down the back of her neck and to her spine. She was so warm and heavy with sleep; he couldn’t resist wrapping his arm around her back, pulling her in close to him, afraid to wake her but needing her closeness.

He was just trying to think about forcing himself back to sleep somehow when she stirred beneath his arm, and he heard her sigh softly. This was it. It was time for her to go and he’d watch in the dimness as he always did, too needy to let her go and too afraid to ask her to stay. He steeled himself, waiting for that wonderfully warm arm across his belly to move when she lithely rose to slide out of bed.

She didn’t.

Instead he felt her nestle her forehead again his shoulder, and her hand slid further beneath his back, pressing her soft body closer and warmer against his. He let out a huff of breath; she must still be asleep. She must not know she was still here. He hoped she would never wake up. He hoped she’d sleep until morning and realize it was okay to stay with him—more than okay. Dammit, he was hoping again, and he was as tight as a spring…

"Go back to sleep, Mulder." Her voice suddenly broke through the stillness, husky and thick with drowsiness, "I’m not going anywhere."

He could have wept as a flood of tension broke free from his body. He drew his arms tighter around her and buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair, allowing himself one shudder of gratitude. He didn’t trust himself to speak.


End file.
